sunday pasta
by pengiechan
Summary: It's not every day you run into your half-brother at the grocery store. Manga based, spoilers. Oneshot.


It's a sunny Sunday afternoon and Shiranatagani Sayoko is grocery shopping.

She has better things to do with her time, these days. Since graduating from university, she has accepted a job with a prestigious law firm, and now that she is also dating, it is a struggle to find quiet time where she is alone and not running madly around town doing this or that. It is a far cry from her high school days, from her second year of solitude and the ever-present questions about her past, but... truthfully, she likes it better this way.

If there ever was another Shiranatagani Sayoko before this one, she is sleeping peacefully in another life, silent and forgotten. What she may have once been, what she has never remembered about her identity as one of the Blade Children - it is all buried somewhere far away, slumbering deeply. And that is how she wants it to be.

The only thing that Sayoko doesn't like about her life in this present time is the need to cook. She does as little cooking as possible because she is simply not good at it. She would rather run to the _conbini_ for every meal... but of course that isn't healthy, and Ken-san (her boyfriend, the detective) would scold her if he knew. So she makes these quick trips to the grocery store, picking simple things that she thinks she can make without burning the food or ruining her dishes, and hopes that her future husband doesn't mind doing the majority of the cooking.

Today she is thinking about making spaghetti. She finds the pasta and stops there to examine her choices, her shopping basket hanging heavy on one arm as she squints at the selection of noodles. (She should really be wearing contacts - her glasses aren't strong enough, anymore - but she has more important things to worry about right now.) The question of spaghetti or linguine stops her, and she wonders what would be better with the _natto_ she has already picked out. She looks from box to box, biting gently on her bottom lip, unsure. Yet again she hopes her future husband is a better cook than she is. Yet again...

Sayoko becomes aware that there is a little girl staring at her. At first she thinks nothing of it - it is just a little girl standing further up the aisle, holding the hand of a man (presumably her father) who is looking at jars of sauce - but after nearly a minute of this she can't help but feel uncomfortable. Against her better judgement she turns her head to look at the girl, and suddenly it's like the wind has been knocked out of her. Aside from the little girl's hair, which is a rich auburn color, looking at her is like looking in a mirror - or, more accurately, like looking at a picture of herself as a child -

_Her eyes_, she thinks, her mind suddenly sharp, _her eyes are like the ones **they** -_

The little girl smiles and Sayoko thinks she might be sick.

"Hey, what - " The man holding the girl's hand seems to realize that she is not paying attention, and as he looks over at Sayoko, the blonde feels lightheaded. She knows these eyes, though not well; she knows this person, too. But it has been years since she's seen him, or anyone like him, despite living in the same city for all this time...

The man's face relaxes into a smile, his green eyes softening. "You're... Shiranatagani, right?"

Sayoko swallows, hard, and forces a smile of her own. "Hello... Asazuki-san."

"It's been a while." The man - Asazuki Kousuke - laughs, tugging gently on the little girl's hand as he walks closer to where Sayoko stands. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well." She places her heavy shopping basket by her feet, watching the little green-eyed girl by his side closely. Something feels strange about her - about this situation. She doesn't quite understand what this means. "How have you been, Asazuki-san?"

"Healthy. No more injuries." He grins. "Narumi-ot - er, Narumi Ayumu told me he'd seen you the other day, something about dating one of his employees... but I thought you would have left this place behind after everything that happened."

"Ah, well..." The blonde touches her forehead, gingerly, at the first hint of a headache. It has been a long time since she's thought about what happened in high school. It has been a long time since the Blade Children had a shootout in the school, since a pink-haired woman came to her grandfather's house to explain the "curse," since they all turned twenty and nothing happened. She knows about these things, and knew about the others, but there was never a need to speak to them, to even acknowledge that the other Shiranatagani Sayoko (the one who is - or _was_ - a Blade Child) existed. But to suddenly come across one of them...

She sighs, softly, and shakes her head. "It's hard to leave," she says simply. "This place is my home."

"Heh." Kousuke shrugs his shoulders. "Guess so. I'm glad we managed to keep you from getting involved, though."

"Yes..." For this she does feel grateful. After Tsuchiya Kirie and Eyes Rutherford had contacted her - _for your own safety_, they had said - it had been Kousuke who had approached her in a Tsukiomi hallway one day, limping along on his crutches, promising that he would keep her and the others out of whatever else might happen. Almost no one knew that she was one of them, and he had promised to keep her secret safe. And as she'd stood there stunned, a brunette had come running up behind him and kicked him in the back of the head, asking why he hadn't kept _her_ out of it -

Sayoko suddenly looks again at the little girl, who is now eyeing the boxes of macaroni, apparently uninterested in the conversation of adults. "This is," she begins, and her mouth can't decide on a smile or frown, "your..."

"Mai," Kousuke says, and the girl's green eyes snap up to meet his, "say hello to Shiranatagani-san."

"Shira - " Her little eyes widen. "Papa. That's too long."

This exchange, however simple, is enough to snap Sayoko out of her reverie. She smiles, finally, a genuine smile, and her shoulders shake with silent laughter. "Sayoko is fine, too," she says, and feels warmth return to her cold body. "It's nice to meet you, Mai-chan."

"Okay." The girl smiles in return, her round cheeks showing dimples. "Nice to meet you, Sayoko-san."

"That's good." Kousuke laughs, reaching down to ruffle the girl's auburn hair. "Mai is my daughter. She just turned four last week."

"She looks just like you." The blonde can't help but grin, now. "... and her mother, of course."

"Ehe..."

"The rumors were true." Sayoko brushes her long hair over one shoulder, bending down to look more closely at the little girl. "It's no wonder the famous Takamachi Ryouko never made it to the Olympics. I heard she never quite recovered from her injuries, but there were rumors that she was expecting a child... Was she very disappointed?"

"For the first five or six months, she called me every bad word she could think of." The redhead pats his daughter on the head, gently tousling her pigtails. "Then she found out she was having a girl and forgot to be angry."

"I'm sure you are both very good parents."

"Thanks." Kousuke grins. "We try."

"Well," Sayoko says, and stands, "I should be going." She looks over at the pasta, thinking that linguine sounds best, and selects a box easily. "Please tell Takamachi-sa - ah..." She pauses, laughing softly. "... your _wife_ that I send my regards."

He nods. "I'll do that. It's nice to see you're doing well."

"Yes. Take care, Asazuki-san... Mai-chan." She bows slightly, looks again at the green-eyed little girl holding his hand, and turns to leave the aisle. Something within her feels lighter, now, warmer, like the sun that shines outside of the grocery store. Maybe that other Sayoko, that Blade Child, is still slumbering somewhere, at peace... but she still can't help but feel happy for these two. They are, after all... well...

As she moves to turn the corner, she hears Mai's high voice from behind her. "Papa, who was that woman?"

Kousuke's response makes her smile. "Ah, well... I suppose you could say she's your aunt."

They are family, after all.


End file.
